


I'll Follow You - And That's a Threat

by KatieComma



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mac needs feelings again, Post Season 3, Season 3 Spoilers, So I gave him some, So much angst, all of the angst, but it all works out in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Post Season 3Mac leaves. Again.But it’s not like the last time. He won’t let it be like the last time; disappearing in the middle of the night without a goodbye. That’s not Mac’s style anymore.





	I'll Follow You - And That's a Threat

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this on my lunch break today and wanted to share with all of you.
> 
> Self beta'ed
> 
> I just... I miss when Mac had feelings. And to this day one of my all time pet peeves about this show... is how he reacted at the end of the last episode of the season. Charlie just died, sacrificed himself when YOU couldn't save him... JUST LIKE ZOE DID... and you're throwing a party and flirting and making a date with Desi? NO! My Mac would never... remember how he didn't even want to talk the day Zoe died?! WELL HE WAS AT WAR WITH CHARLIE!... they've been friends FOR YEARS... I just don't see Mac having everyone over at the firepit and then flirting with Desi... ANYWAY - rant over... so I fixed it.

Mac leaves. Again.

But it’s not like the last time. He won’t let it be like the last time; disappearing in the middle of the night without a goodbye. That’s not Mac’s style anymore.

Mac leaves because he has to. He invites the team over to the house for one last fireside night together. And tells them why he has to go. And that he’s coming back as soon as he can.

And then Mac leaves. 

There are so many reasons, but they all revolve around Jack: the squeezing tightness around his heart since Jack left; the fact that he never should have let Jack walk off into danger alone; the way Charlie’s death is eating away at Mac’s insides without someone to hold him steady.

So Mac goes to find Jack.

Everyone understands.

Riley gives him a lead. Even if it’s a bit cold, it’s a place to start.

Mac flies around the world: Germany, China, Australia, where he has a quick visit with Cage before jumping a plane to Brazil.

On each and every flight his thoughts are consumed with: what do I say when I find him? And at the end of every flight he comes up empty, still unsure. He’s never been good at talking about his feelings.

Finally he chases Jack down.

Looking up at the sign of the little, run down hotel in Greece, Mac hikes the backpack up on his shoulder and feels the nervousness overtake his grief and start to crawl up his throat.

Mac doesn’t use Jack’s name, just asks if there are any Americans staying.

The little round man who owns the place scowls. “You mean, the one who never stops talking?”

Mac laughs. It’s the first laugh since Charlie died. And it hurts, like he hasn’t used those muscles in too long.

“That’s the one I’m looking for,” Mac says.

The little man points up the stairs and gives him a room number.

On the way to the third floor he stops at the second landing when he hears a familiar voice rumble through the old walls. He makes his way to the door and and hears voices trading back and forth, but it’s too muffled to hear the words.

He knocks lightly on the door, and all the sound in the room stops.

Floorboards creak, and the lock clicks, the door opening with the whine of old hinges.

“What do you want?” An unfamiliar man asks, his face creased in a frown.

Mac has to cough to clear all of the mixed feelings out of his throat. “I’m looking for Jack Dalton.”

The man opens his mouth to say something, but Jack’s voice carries to them: “Mac?” He steps into view behind the strange man. “Mac? What the hell are you doing here?” Despite the concern in his words there’s a smile on his face.

“I needed to find you,” Mac says. He doesn’t break, not on the outside, but Jack’s grin fades because he can see what’s happening under the surface.

“Hey boys,” Jack says, putting on his Sargent Dalton voice, “clear the room.”

A small group of men clear out and disperse to other rooms in the hotel. Once they’re gone, Mac steps inside and Jack shuts the door behind them.

Alone.

Mac looks around the room, unsure if he’s going to cry or throw up or both at the same time. It’s a small room, window overlooking another building with no windows. The bed has been pushed into a corner and several tables have been brought in to lay out papers and computers on. It’s their little base of operations.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful to see a little piece’a home,” Jack says, “but what are you doin’ here Mac?”

Mac turns to look at him, done avoiding Jack’s gaze. And the moment their eyes lock, he can’t hide anything inside him anymore. He is laid bare. And it doesn’t matter that he couldn’t think of anything to say on all of those plane rides, because only one thing matters: “I love you Jack,” he says, and hopes that Jack really does know him well enough to read more than just a bro moment in it.

Jack opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead he does that thing he always does when he’s feeling too much and doesn’t know what to do or say: he laughs. And Jack laughs like he’s just heard the funniest thing in the world and tears fill up his eyes and spill down his face. He’s not laughing at Mac.

Jack’s laughter fades until all that’s left is that intoxicating smile that Mac has always loved.

Mac drops his bag to the floor and steps up to Jack, who doesn’t need to say anything for Mac to know that he’s not the only one in this thing. 

Their foreheads meet. Mac tentatively puts his hands on Jack’s chest. Jack wraps his arms around Mac, one hand sliding up into Mac’s hair.

He breathes Jack in and closes his eyes to it. Jack smells like travel and war: harsh soap, gun oil, old sweat, gasoline. Mac’s never smelled anything so good in his whole life. It reminds him of when he met Jack in the sandbox. He smelled the same back then.

“I was gonna come home,” Jack says, voice gruff with his emotions still. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“I couldn’t...” Mac gulps, now that Jack is holding him, is there to support him and be his rock, he feels the wall keeping his emotions at bay begin to crumble. It feels like being hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. “There’s just...” he can’t form words, can’t figure out how to say what he needs to say. His eyes burn with all of it: the betrayal of his father, the weight of the team pressing down on him every instant of every day... Charlie’s death, Mac’s fault.

Jack pulls their foreheads apart, and Mac wants to scream “no,” wants to pull Jack back to him. Instead he opens his eyes to see Jack’s concern staring back at him. Jack’s hand is still tangled in his hair, cradling the back of his head.

“What’s the matter?” Jack asks. “What’s goin’ on Mac?”

“Charlie,” Mac chokes out before the tears come. “Charlie’s dead.” He sobs, and grips Jack’s shoulders tight, pulling him hard into a hug, and pressing his face into Jack’s neck to try and stop all of the emotion that he doesn’t want to feel. Maybe he can use Jack to stopper it, press it back down inside.

Jack holds him close, hand still in his hair, and it feels so right. He doesn’t “shh” Mac, or tell him everything will be alright. They’ve been through too much for any lies like that. Instead Jack just holds him and lets him cry, lets him feel.

He sobs words into Jack's skin, because now that everything's been let loose, it's all coming out. "Oh God Jack... I couldn't save him... I tried so hard... and I couldn't... I watching him die."

Still Jack doesn't offer words of solace or comfort. As a soldier he knows the right words don't exist. His body is there instead; strong hands to hold on and massage perfect circles against tense back muscles, arms to wrap around Mac and contain the damage of his outburst.

When Mac is spent, a headache forming at his temples from the tears, Jack speaks. “I love you too, Mac,” his words are full of a lifetime of wanting and watching from a distance. And the next is spoken matter-of-factly with a little heartbreak mixed in. “But I can’t come home. Not yet.”

“Not until…” Mac says into Jack’s ear, still clutching tightly to the hug they’re sharing.

“Kovacs,” Jack says.

Mac pushes back. Jack doesn’t want to let him go and there’s a little resistance before Mac can look into Jack’s face again.

“You’re not leaving me behind this time,” Mac says.

“Mac, you can’t just-”

“You go kaboom, I go kaboom,” Mac says. “I can do whatever the hell I want. And you know for a fact that I’ll follow you whether you let me or not.”

Jack smiles. “Guess I better introduce you to the guys then.”

Mac nods, but pulls Jack into another hug instead of making for the door. “Later,” he says softly into Jack’s shoulder.

“Later,” Jack agrees, pulling Mac in close again and holding him tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta be honest... the end isn't my favourite... but I could have just kept writing this thing forever and I needed to stop. Sorry!


End file.
